


through windows

by moaningmyrtle



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5154452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moaningmyrtle/pseuds/moaningmyrtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on an au prompt, 'their flats are across from each other and they always catch each other drinking coffee at 3 in the morning through the window.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	through windows

_February 12, 2:06 AM_

 

It wasn't that he considered himself a procrastinator, just that he preferred to do work in a deadline-induced panic; there was a certain amount of encouragement in knowing that his essay was due in exactly six hours, and yet he still couldn't write more than a paragraph.

 

Maybe what would help was another cup of coffee- probably not, as he'd already had four, but Connor left his laptop open and headed back into the kitchen.

 

The pot was empty, again.

 

"Damn," He muttered to the emptiness of his flat, yawning as he reached up into the cupboard and grabbed the coffee grounds. This was becoming a frustrating routine, staying up much too late in order to do homework that he'd avoided from the date it was assigned, his only source of energy being a whole lot of caffeine.

 

While he waited impatiently, listening to the slow drip of the coffee and pacing the floors of his apartment, a light outside his window caught Connor's attention.

 

Nosy and bored, he leaned tiredly over and peeked through the glass; an alley separated his building from another, and someone had left their curtains open just as he had.

 

They surely hadn't seen him watching, and he was far too tired to care whether he was hidden or not, and so he rested his elbows on the counter and continued to shamelessly snoop.

 

The man in the opposing flat looked just as drained as Connor felt, a mug between his hands as he struggled to keep his eyes open, wandering around the room and appearing and disappearing from view. It was when he noticed that the man wasn’t dressed in more than a pair of loose sweatpants that Connor felt like a bit of a peeping tom, and yet he still couldn't tear his gaze away.

 

There was a certain charm to the way the stranger struggled to wipe a smudge from his wide-framed glasses, his lips moving in a way that made him sure he was singing- a part of him wondered what he was listening to, what kind of music he liked.

 

The coffee pot was soon full, and Connor continued to stare out the window as he poured a fair amount of the dark liquid into his mug; this was surely more productive than tomorrow's homework.

 

A smile tugged across his face when he caught sight of the stranger just barely swaying, and couldn't help but appreciate the way his hips rolled to a beat he couldn't hear.

 

This might've been a good time to walk away, but he just couldn't stop- what was it that made him so endearing? Or maybe he was just curious, interested to see if anything more would happen.

 

What eventually did happen was not what he was expecting nor hoping for; the man was running his fingers back through messy bed-head when his eyes fell upon the view outside, and immediately met Connor's stare.

 

They both shared a look of 'oh shit,' and the man set down his mug before quickly scurrying out of sight. Not a minute later, the room across from him faded back to dark and Connor was staring at nothing but the brick wall that had always been his view.

 

_April 2, 3:24 AM_

 

The club always ended up causing Connor to feel worse than he had going in, and while he'd ordered a few drinks and flirted with someone that wasn't remotely interested in anything other than a night beneath the sheets, he'd still gone home alone.

 

Maybe it was the way he could smell liquor on the other mans breath from feet away, or the realization that he'd have to sneak out the next morning anyways, but either way he'd said no when the invitation to come home with him had finally come up. It was the first time he'd ever passed up meaningless sex, and Connor was marching around his flat trying to figure out what had switched in his mind.

 

The offer had been there, both silently agreeing that it wouldn't mean more than a way to release some of the day's stress, and still he'd walked away without even exchanging numbers or a quick and rough hook-up in the bathroom.

 

Opening the fridge, it was obvious that he'd forgot to pick up groceries for more than a few weeks- all that was left was bottles of condiments and a six-pack.

 

Tearing a can from it’s plastic rings, he cracked the tab open and helped himself to half the drink. The alcohol didn't do much to determine why he'd suddenly become uninterested in casual sex, but it did intoxicate him to the point of not caring about it. That might've been why he finished the can off in under a minute, and started on a second.

 

When it finally fell into place, his thoughts of confusion and frustration added up into one unfortunate conclusion- Connor was undeniably lonely. It wasn't because he couldn't find someone to sleep with, but because there was no one there when the lights came on, or after a long day at work, or sitting across from him as he ate microwaved dinner and watched stupid reality shows.

 

With that discouraging realization in the forefront of his mind, he chugged back what was left; it was when he turned to throw the can into the garbage that he realized he wasn't alone. Sort of alone, but not completely- the man in the flat across from his was standing just on the other side of his window, watching with furrowed eyebrows and concern caught behind his eyes.

 

They met each others stare once again, two months later. This time was different, however, because he was the one being watched.

 

When he'd realized he'd been caught, the stranger didn't hurry to walk away; instead, he tilted his head to the side, as if trying to interpret what was wrong.

 

If it was sympathy that the man was feeling, catching his neighbor attempting to drink his feelings away, Connor didn't want any of it.

 

Flashing back a look that surely wasn't friendly, he pulled back his curtains with a heavy tug and made it impossible to see into his empty apartment.

 

The rest of the night was spent finishing what drinks were left in his fridge, and wondering if the man on the other side of the window was just as lonely as he was.

 

_May 20, 1:39 AM_

 

Social media had always seemed like a waste of time, convinced that any relationship that began over the internet was doomed to fail. It wasn't until he'd accidentally come across his neighbor's profile that he realized it had one benefit, and it was nothing if not creepy.

 

Searching through picture after picture, Connor was suddenly able to click a button and learn more than he'd ever thought possible.

 

Oliver Hampton, that was his name. It rolled off the tongue nicely.

 

What was worse was that he'd had his profile open in a separate tab on his laptop for the last three days, contemplating whether or not he should just send a friend-request, whether Oliver would even recognize him or if he'd just squint his enticingly dark eyes and click 'deny.' The thought caused his stomach to twist, and so he continued to wade through his life over a webpage and remain anonymous.

 

While he'd refused to make it known to Oliver that he'd found him over the internet, that didn't stop him from keeping his curtains wide open and his lights on, hoping that maybe they'd see each other one last time.

 

The coffee between his palms threatened to spill onto his keyboard, and he sighed; there was nothing productive being done anyways.

 

Shutting the screen with a bitter slam, he left the computer and traced his floors, instinctively peeking out the window as he'd been doing for half a month now. Most nights the lights were kept off, sometimes turned on but only to be hidden by thin fabric that he must've recently purchased. A slight sense of guilt had been building in his chest ever since he'd shut Oliver out at the first sign of interest, but that was ridiculous; there was no obligation to make eyes in the middle of the night.

 

It was becoming instinct now that he'd peek through the glass every time he entered the kitchen; this time, however, the curtain was pulled back and the light was surprisingly on.

 

While he'd assumed maybe Oliver had forgotten before heading out for the night, a figure came into view not a second after he was about to turn away. Not the same man he'd been waiting for, but someone he'd seen in the pictures online. They'd pose with their arms around the other smiling for the camera, but he wasn't smiling now.

 

Disheartened but none the less curious, Connor stared for a moment longer. While he couldn't hear a voice through the panes of glass, it was obvious that he was yelling, arms flying in the air and anger pulling at his expression, storming in and out of his view. Not a minute later, Oliver was there too; his cheeks were wet, eyes red, a begging look across his face.

 

They were fighting, and it didn’t look like the kind the kind of argument that ended with a kiss.

 

Hiding himself from their view, he watched for just a few moments longer as Oliver struggled to get a word in edgewise, the other man not stopping to take a breath. The rally seemed to come to an abrupt end when he swung a jacket over his shoulders and shouted one last hurrah, gone from the room and leaving Oliver behind, looking as though he were ready to collapse to the floor.

 

The sight was all but heartbreaking, peeking through the glass as Oliver picked up a mug, stared it at for only a second, and then let it slip from his hands. What would’ve been the ceramic dish shattering on the ground appeared to hit a nerve, and that’s when he lost any bit of composure that remained.

 

With a frown pulling at his lips, Connor found himself trying to get Oliver’s attention; it didn't work, and instead he witnessed what could only be described as a break-down. Fists slammed against the counter top, fingers pulled at his own hair, and while he couldn't see below the waist, knees were surely shaking.

 

“Oliver,” Connor tapped on his window, feeling so hopeless that he wasn't bothered to conceal the fact that he’d learned his name- only, Oliver was staring down at his own hands, willing himself to hold back tears that threatened to fall, “Fuck.”

 

The room was empty for a moment as Connor waited for the inevitable darkness to return, but instead Oliver came back with a cigarette between his trembling fingers, a lighter in the other hand. It wasn't until he’d reached over to pull his window open that they finally met each others stare.

 

Now it was Connor who tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, aching to know that he was okay- if the smoke was anything to go by, he’d have to guess not.

 

They shared a look that spoke more than words could say- did you see everything, or did you just find me about to light something I know I shouldn't?

 

Maybe it was for a laugh, but Oliver reached over and filled a glass with water, holding it in front of the window so that Connor could see- his eyebrows furrowed in confusion until his cigarette was dumped right into the cup before he’d even lit the end.

 

A smile escaped, and Oliver returned one- it might've been weak, barely there, but God, it was beautiful.

 

Jumping down from the counter top, Oliver’s small smile faded and he lifted his hand, waving; so he couldn't have been that upset.

 

Waving back, he continued to mouth the words, ‘are you alright?’

 

A shrug was all that Oliver responded with, a simple rise and fall of his shoulders, and kept his eyes on Connor until the last possible moment; the room eventually fell dark once more, and while he should’ve expected it, he still found himself wishing that they could have more than short lived glances through panes of glass.

 

_May 20, 3:38 AM_

 

There hadn’t been another visit from the man who’d caused Oliver to lose himself in the middle of the night, or not that Connor had seen.

 

Work was wearing him down, causing him the need to sleep early- tonight, however, he couldn't close his eyes.

 

What had been possibly the worst first date he’d ever gone on would’ve undoubtedly played over until he drove himself mad; while he'd thought there was nothing worse than being asked to meet at a fast-food restaurant, apparently the man he’d met with was prepared to make it a night he’d never forget, even if he wanted to.

 

Aside from the horrible jokes and his insistence to talk about nothing other than himself, he’d been forced to eat a burger that gave him the world's worst stomach ache and to top it off, they definitely didn't sell beer.

 

Laughing dryly to himself as he poured his coffee, Connor found himself wondering why he’d ever stopped trying to pick up guys at the bar- sure, there wasn't a connection, but at least they didn't brag about how much they're truck costed and tell him about the time their mother forgot their birthday.

 

It was the caffeine that he’d needed to kick start his mood, and the next thing he did was reach for his cellphone and immediately delete the dating app that had led him to make such an awful choice. Surely he could do better, or possibly just avoid the situation altogether.

 

“Never again,” He mumbled as he sipped at his drink, trying to think about anything other than what would go down as the saddest failure of his mid-twenties; even the staff had been looking at them, wondering why the hell they’d thought it was a good idea.

 

A loud bang on the glass brought him from the hazy state he’d been in, and he turned with a panicked spin, somewhat wondering if there was a mugging going on in the alley below.

 

It wasn't a criminal, however, that had thrown something at his window.

 

Jumping onto the counter, he pushed back the screen along with the frame and saw that Oliver had done the same; they’d never spoken, and Connor steadied himself on the inside wall before looking up, “Was that a rock?”

 

“No, uh,” Oliver stared down, they were both five floors up, and gestured to the ground, “A pen, actually.”

 

His voice, timid and unsure, had thrown Connor off; he'd expected something different, but was pleasantly surprised, “Oh- Don't need it?”

 

For a moment, Oliver seemed to consider the question before a soft laugh escaped, “I didn't plan that very well, or at all. I just saw you, and I reacted.”

 

“Oh,” Connor’s lips curled into a smile, unable to deny that a pen was just as enticing as a rock, and slightly less dangerous; they had to raise their voices over the sound of traffic, and both were hanging out their windows just a bit too far for comfort, “You weren't about to have a smoke, were you? Cause tonight I don't think I'd protest, as long as you threw one over here.”

 

The offer caused Oliver to shake his head, “Chucked the whole pack in the garbage that night- if it weren't for you, I probably would've burned through the entire twenty-four.”

 

While he already knew why, Connor decided to play dumb for the sake of dragging on their over-the-alley conversation, “That bad of a night?”

 

“I guess I've had worse,” He shrugged, and Connor didn't want to imagine what ‘worse’ looked like.

 

A car on the road honked loudly, and Oliver jumped and toppled a few inches past the frame, a gasp slipping from their lips- this wasn't exactly convenient. Instead of cutting it short, however, he brushed the near-death off and continued, “What about you? You look pretty disappointed that I can't offer you one.”

 

“You ever been on a first date at McDonalds?”

 

The idea caused Oliver to physically cringe, stifling a smile at the image he’d brought to mind, “Mine was at White Castle, actually.”

 

“Oh shit,” Connor couldn't help but burst out laughing, catching the eye of someone who was walking down the sidewalk beneath them; they both shot each other a funny look, “Do you, I don't know- I've got coffee, but I could go for another?”

 

It was relief mixed with anticipation that quickly spread across Oliver’s expression, trying to suppress a grin, “Meet me below?”

 

With a nod, they shared one last smile before shutting their windows with a quiet slam. It was Oliver who watched curiously while Connor first fixed his hair in the mirror on his fridge, a slight blush to his cheeks as he straightened his shirt and poured an unfinished coffee down the drain.

 

If this was a date, Connor was almost positive that it would go better than his last. Admittedly, they could end up at McDonalds and he’d still go home with a smile. 


End file.
